Waterville H.S. class of ‘66 holds 56th reunion

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Front row, from left to right, Marilyn Patterson Bouchard, Pauline Harding Gorham, Angie Fortin Loftus, Linda Pomerleau, Nancy Knauff Atkins, Louise Lord Proulx, Mary Ann White, Eva Couture Michaud and Cheryl Abbott. Back, Buz Brown, Peter Hallee, Mike Labbe, Charlie Breton, Tom Nale, John Hairsine, Roland Hallee, Peter Beckerman, Mike Paquette, John Nadeau, David Begin, Mike Vashon, Bob Bourassa, Dan Cosgrove, Ron Raymond, Jim Vashon, Norman Mattson and Jim Bosse. (contributed photo)

On August 3, the Waterville High School class of 1966 held its belated 55th (actual 56th) class reunion, at the Forrest J. Pare VFW #1285, in Waterville.

PHOTO: Winner

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Eben Haviland, 10, of Waterville, captured the state championship in the boys 9/10 800 meters race walk at the USATF State Track Meet, held on Saturday, August 13, at Cony High School, in Augusta. (Central Maine Photography photo)

Up and down the Kennebec Valley: Waterville historic district – Part 1

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Waterville City Hall

by Mary Grow

As sources cited in this and the following articles say, Waterville’s downtown business district was in the 19th and 20th centuries (and still is in the 21st century) an important regional commercial center. Buildings from the 1830s still stand; the majority of the commercial buildings lining Main Street date from the last quarter of the 19th century. Hence the interest in recognizing and protecting the area’s historic value by listing it on the National Register of Historic Places.

Waterville’s original downtown historic district, according to the initial application for historic listing in 2012, includes 22 historic buildings and three others too new to count as historic; two “objects” (in Castonguay Square) one “structure” (the information kiosk in the square, too modern to count) and two public parks, Castonguay Square and the Pocket Park on the north side of the Federal Trust Bank building.

The district runs from the intersection of Temple and Main streets south to the connector to Water Street at the south end of Main Street, covering both sides of Main Street. It includes both sides of Common Street, encompassing the Opera House and City Hall building that had been on the National Register of Historic Places since 1976.

In 2016, the district was extended northward on the east side of Main Street for another block, from Temple Street to Appleton Street. This additional section of the historic district will be described in a later article.

The 2012 application for historic register listing was prepared by Matthew Corbett and Scott Hanson, of Sutherland Conservation and Consulting, in Augusta. The document lists Main Street buildings from north to south on the east (river) side of the street, with a detour down Common Street, and from south to north on the west side. The names of some of the businesses will be familiar to those who knew Waterville 11 years ago and earlier.

Almost all the buildings share common walls to form a solid façade. Most extend directly to the sidewalk, creating what the application describes as a “canyon effect” that was destroyed north of Temple Street by the demolition of west-side buildings in a 1960s urban renewal project.

Because so many of the street-level entrances have been modernized over the years, the more historically interesting parts of the building facades are from the second floor upward. Corbett and Hanson listed details of windows, trim and other features for each building.

Arnold-Boutelle-Elden Block

On the east side of Main Street, the northernmost building in the original district, on the south corner of Main and Temple streets, is the Arnold-Boutelle-Elden Blocks (103-115 Main Street, according to the application). It consists of six store fronts with common walls, the first four built in 1886 and 1887 and the last two in 1893. The application describes the three-story buildings as Queen Anne style and describes in detail the decorative elements in granite and brick. Names and dates are carved in granite plaques “in the pediments of the second, third, and fifth blocks.”

Next south was what was in 1912 the Hanson, Webber & Dunham Hardware store, built in 1894. Four stories high, brick with granite sills and brick arches, topped by a “decorative cornice flanked by two small corbelled brick piers,” the application says it was once owned by Central Maine Power Company.

In 1902, according to Frank Redington’s chapter on businesses in Edwin Carey Whittemore’s Waterville history, the blocks from Arnold to Hanson, Webber & Dunham, inclusive, had been remodeled to form “an unbroken front.” From there to Castonguay Square there were only wooden buildings in 1902.

The wooden buildings were succeeded by the three-story brick Montgomery Ward Department Store building at the corner of Main Street and Castonguay Square, originally built in 1938 and expanded northward in 1967 (when it took over what the application calls the Stearns commercial block and your writer remembers as Sterns department store). The building is Georgian Revival style; Corbett and Hanson’s application says Montgomery Ward used it from 1933 to 1948.

Montgomery-Ward

Corbett and Hanson wrote that what is now Castonguay Square was part of a parcel deeded in 1796 from Winslow (which until 1802 included Waterville) “to be used for church/meetinghouse and school house.” Both buildings were put up, and the meeting house later became the town hall, with an adjoining area of open space with trees, “at one point, bounded by a wooden fence.”

Redington wrote that local boys used to call the square “the hay scales.” He did not explain.

In the early 20th century the town hall became City Hall and the park became City Hall Park. It became Castonguay Square in 1921 to honor First Sergeant Arthur L. Castonguay, killed in World War I.

Stephen Plocher wrote in his on-line Waterville history that more than 500 men from Waterville served in World War I, and Castonguay was the first to die. Another on-line source suggested that he was among National Guard members who became part of the 103rd infantry, a unit that fought in major battles in France.

The two historic objects in the square are unrelated. An inscription on a round boulder, a 1917 gift from Silence Howard Hayden Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, commemorates Benedict Arnold’s 1775 march to Québec. A “German 15 cm heavy field howitzer model 1893” is probably one of the captured weapons distributed nation-wide by the United States Department of Defense in the 1920s.

* * * * * *

On the north side of the square stands the combined Opera House and City Hall, with an address of 1 Common Street. This building has been on the National Register of Historic Places since the beginning of 1976; the application for listing was prepared in October 1975 by Earle G. Shettleworth, Jr., and Frank Beard of the Maine Historic Preservation Commission.

The application calls the building “a good representative example of the multi-purpose civic buildings erected in Maine at the turn of the century.” The idea came from a May 1896 citizens’ petition to the Waterville mayor and board of aldermen.

City officials chose George G. Adams, of Lawrence, Massachusetts, as architect, and in February 1897 signed a building contract with another Massachusetts firm, Kelly Brothers, of Haverhill.

The building was supposed to be finished by July 1, 1898, but it was delayed until early 1902, “partially due to litigation with the architect over fees,” Shettleworth and Beard wrote.

Apparently the builder changed, because in William Abbott Smith’s chapter in Whittemore’s history the builder is Horace Purinton and Company and its spokesman referred to construction contracts signed July 12, 1901. The June 13, 1890, issue of the Waterville Mail, found on line, has a front-page ad for Horace Purinton & Co., contractors and builders specializing in brickwork and stonework, with headquarters in Waterville and brickyards in Waterville, Winslow and Augusta.

The 1975 application for historic recognition calls the building’s architectural style Colonial Revival. The basement and lower floor are stone, the two upper stories “brick with wood and stone trim.” The front features arched doorways and windows, Doric columns and decorative brick features and is topped by “an elaborate wooden cornice composed of a dentil molding, a series of modillions and an ornamental crest at the center bearing the inscription ‘City Hall.'”

Smith quoted from Horace Purinton’s remarks at the June 23, 1902, dedication of the new city hall. Purinton told his audience that material for the building came from as far away as Michigan and Indiana, with two exceptions. Some of the wood was logged and milled in Maine; and “The material for the brick was in its natural state in the clay banks within our borders.” (From the context, Purinton probably meant the borders of Maine, not of Waterville.)

The building’s interior is in two sections, Shettleworth and Beard wrote. City offices occupy the first two floors, with a main entrance on the south (Castonguay Square) side and another entrance on the east (Front Street) side. The upper part of the building is the large auditorium, originally called the “Assembly Rooms.”

The applicants described the auditorium in 1975 as still looking much as it did in 1902. They wrote that “The balcony and proscenium arch are ornamented with elaborate Baroque style plasterwork,” and the “original painted curtain bearing a large scenic landscape” was still there.

The first event in the Opera House was a dairymen’s exhibition, Shettleworth and Beard found – they gave no date. Later it hosted amateur shows and touring acting companies. Well-known artists who performed there included Australian actress Judith Anderson, American contralto Marion Anderson, singer and actor Rudy Vallee and cowboy actor Tom Mix, whose horse was “hauled up the outside of the building” to join him on stage.

After World War II, movies displaced live shows and the auditorium served as a movie theater. Beginning in 1960, Shettleworth and Beard found the venue resumed live productions – “plays, musicals, and recitals.”

“This kind of activity carried on in a 1900 theatre in a relatively small city is extremely unusual in this day and age,” they commented.

* * * * * *

Alas, your writer has, as so often happens, run out of space before she ran out of information. She hopes readers will find this description of a small part of Waterville’s history interesting enough to look for continuations in following weeks.

Main sources

Corbett, Matthew, and Scott Hanson, National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, Waterville Main Street Historic District, Aug. 28, 2012, supplied by the Maine Historic Preservation Commission.
Plocher, Stephen, Colby College Class of 2007, A Short History of Waterville, Maine, Found on the web at Waterville-maine.gov.
Shettleworth, Earle G., Jr., and Frank A Beard, National Register of Historic Places inventory – Nomination Form, Waterville Opera House and City Hall, October 1975.
Whittemore, Rev. Edwin Carey, Centennial History of Waterville 1802-1902 (1902).

Websites, miscellaneous.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: A pictorial look at The Plains

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Water St. looking north. Notice the row of tenement buildings on the right. Those were built on the river bank, and were supported by stilts. They were removed in the 1960s and 1970s. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)

by Roland D. Hallee

Water St. looking south. Beginning with Poissonnier’s Market in right foreground. The Maine Theater marquis can be seen in the middle of the photo. On the left is a home that is still there today. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)

The Hose 3 substation of the Waterville Fire Department was located across the street from the Second Baptist Church. The building remains, but is now a residence. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)

The Grove St. playground in the 1950s. The tenement building in the background, burned several years ago and is no longer there. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)

Read more from this series here.

New Dimensions FCU announces results of Cruisin’ for Care

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From left to right, Tammy Poissonnier, Dianne Bourgoin, Randy Schmitz, Sharon Storti, Ryan Poulin, Hannah Fitzgerald, Grace Jandro (from MCCP). (contributed photo)

New Dimensions Federal Credit Union recently hosted its 8th Annual Cruisin’ for a Cure Car Show at the Lafleur Airport. On the morning of June 4, staff and volunteers arrived early to begin setting up for the biggest event they do all year. They sent the invitations, carefully planned, and were over the top that they had finally reached the day of the show. One by one, the cars began showing up to participate in a much-loved car show event for a great cause. With 160 registrations, it’s no wonder they watched in amazement when the new section of the airport filled up so quickly. The day was a complete success, and they are excited to share the results.

They collected and tallied the event funds and are thrilled to report that they raised a record-high amount of $20,240.66, and with the addition of the CO-OP Miracle Match of $10,000, the total is $30,240.66 for 2022. What an impact that will make in the lives of children, and their families, who desperately need the help.

New Dimensions FCU hosts the “Cruisin’ for a Cure Car Show” each year to raise money for the Maine Children’s Cancer Program (MCCP) – an affiliate of The Barbara Bush Children’s Hospital at Maine Medical Center, located in Scarborough, Maine. This year, fundraising activities included a 50/50 raffle and a Super Raffle that included a Yeti Package. Additionally, they raised even more money by grilling hot dogs, sausage & onions, deep-frying fries, selling pizza by the slice, and making sure breakfast pizza was available. Other efforts to raise money were the proceeds from tee-shirt sales and, of course, each car show participant paid a nominal registration fee of $10 per vehicle. They also suggested a $3 donation from the patrons who came to see the car show, and they stated that “as always, our community showed up generous as ever.”

They thank the area businesses that sponsor this important event each year and attribute a large part of their success to them who make it possible to donate all the proceeds to the Maine Children’s Cancer Program. Their sponsorships include gold, silver, bronze, and general and trophy sponsorships. Also included are the businesses that volunteer to donate signs, posters, pizza, super raffle prizes, and more.

PHOTO: Central Maine 2022 Youth Football Senior Camp

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The Central Maine Football Senior Camp for ages 10-13 was directed by Lawrence H.S. head football coach John Hersom, with the help of Lawrence players, on July 25-27, at the Fairfield PAL field. (photo by Cameron Dyer, Central Maine Photography staff

Local novelist launches “Read a story, feed a child” effort

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David M. Carew, author of the new murder mystery/love story Lucy’s in the Neighborhood — set in contemporary Waterville — has launched the “Read a Story, Feed a Child” effort to benefit Winslow Comm­unity Cupboard food pantry.

Dave Carew

“For every copy of Lucy’s in the Neigh­borhood purchased online throughout August, I will make a donation to Winslow Community Cupboard food pantry,” said Carew. “And for every order specifically placed from Monday, August 22, through Wednesday, August 24, I will donate 100 percent of my author royalties to the food pantry.” He noted that the food pantry now serves more than 200 families from Winslow, Waterville (30 percent of clientele), Clinton, and Benton.

Hailed as “a stellar story … engaging, entertaining, and intelligent”, by Roy E. Perry, Book Reviewer (retired) for The Tennessean, Lucy’s in the Neighborhood, set in Waterville, is available online from Maine Authors Publishing.

David M. Carew, of Waterville, is the author of the novels Voice from the Gutter and Everything Means Nothing to Me: A Novel of Underground Nashville, which The Tennessean hailed as “haunting, beautiful, powerful.” He worked for more than 20 years as a publicist in Nashville before returning to Maine in 2016.

For more information, please visit Maine Authors Publishing online or call (207) 594-0091.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: Modern marvels began to pop up

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by Roland D. Hallee

Growing up on The Plains in the 1950s and ‘60s brought about some revolutionary, and exciting, changes in our way of life. Modern conveniences were beginning to pop up in our humble homes.

How it was: The street I grew up on was not paved, but rather it was gravel. That came later in the ‘60s when they would come around and “pave” the street with liquid tar. Didn’t my mother keep a strict eye on us, because we always went down to the street to investigate afterward. Unfortunately, some of the liquid would spray onto the edge of the lawn, and, of course, you guessed it, we would get some on our shoes, and then attempt to enter the house. No way that was happening. The shoes had to come off.

In our kitchen, there was an ice box, a wood/kerosene stove, and a wringer washing machine. Our house had no television, and no telephone. Actually, we didn’t miss them, because we didn’t know any better. That’s the way it was as far back as we could remember.

Ice box

The first to be changed was the ice box. Believe it or not, it was manufactured by Volkswagen. Every week, a horse-drawn wagon would come to the front of the house from Springbrook Ice & Fuel Co. A man would enter the house, look at the ice compartment, then go back to the wagon. He would grab hold of a chunk of ice with a pair of grapplers, throw the ice over his shoulder and put it in the ice box. The compartment was at the top of the ice box, with a tube that would drain the melted ice into a pan that lay just above the floor. That had to be emptied periodically. One of our chores. Our dad eventually did away with that and bought a brand new Hotpoint refrigerator. That ice box exists to this day.

Then, there was the stove. Wood fired on one side, and kerosene on the other. Behind the stove stood a tank, loaded upside down, with kerosene, with a spring-loaded valve. That tank had to be refilled often from a 55-gallon drum that sat on the back porch. Another one of our chores.

But, boy, I can still smell the wood stove used mostly in the winter. Our mother would make toast and pancakes right on the cast iron plates that covered the wood box. Those were the best I have ever tasted. The rest of the time, it was the kerosene side that got all the use.

On laundry day, which was always Monday, our mother would do the wash, and in more pleasant weather, the clothes was hung outside to dry. During colder weather, the downstairs turned into a clothing maze. She would string clothes lines, criss-crossed through the dining room and kitchen. We had to maneuver our way through the clothes that was hung to dry. That all came to an end in 1964, when dad purchased a brand-spanking new automatic washer and dryer.

In the basement, was the wood furnace. Every fall, a truck load of firewood was delivered on the side lawn, cut and split to stove length (20 inches). My father, and two older brothers would be outside, feeding the sticks through a cellar window, where my younger brother and our mother would stack the wood against the walls. I don’t recall how many cords a year, but I do remember that it was back-breaking work.

Of course, we had to monitor the furnace, especially when our dad worked the night shift. Keep the fire stoked!

On my grandfather’s side, he heated with a coal-fired furnace. Well, after a chimney fire one night, dad had oil-fired forced hot air systems installed. Another marvelous modern convenience. No more lugging and stacking firewood.

All the heat was gravity fed through floor grates, and there were no heating ducts. Right outside our bedroom, on the second floor, was one grate. It would be a wrestling match in the morning to see who would get dressed while standing on the heating grate. As you would guess, the two older brothers would usually prevail. All four of us slept in a single room that my father had dubbed, “the dormitory”.

It was October 1958 when my dad finally decided to purchase a television. There was only one other house on our street that had one (the Montminys). Our grandparents would come over, usually on Sunday nights, to watch Milton Berle do his comedy show. We only had three channels, and they would sign off every night at midnight. I don’t recall any of the other shows, only that later on the Lawrence Welk Show would be a weekly staple. My grandfather would always say, in French mind you, to turn up the volume, citing, “Your grandmother is hard of hearing.”

Then, there was the issue of the telephone. We didn’t have one, but our grandparents did. We would have to give our friends their number. When a call would come in for any one of us, they would go to the wall that separated the two units, pound on the wall, wait for a return knock, and yell the name of whomever the call was for. (My dad worked at Hollingsworth & Whitney Paper Co., and was a machine tender. He didn’t want a phone in the house because he didn’t want to be called into work on his days off to replace a wet or dry end “wire” – I told you last week about our weekly lesson on papermaking.)

Well, around 1960, my older brother had a girlfriend who would call periodically. My grandparents would go through the routine, and my brother would go next door to answer the call. Well, my grandparents were both hard of hearing, but they heard every word discussed. My brother had had enough, and persuaded my dad to install a phone at my brother’s expense. It was a two-party line, and you had to know which ring was yours and which was the other party’s. It was very easy to listen in the other party’s conversations, because you didn’t know who the other party was.

Eventually, our dad broke down and had a one-party line brought into the house.

So, in the span of about four years, we went from pretty primitive accommodations, to all the “new fangled, modern” marvels.

MaineGeneral Medical Center issues call for artists

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MaineGeneral Medical Center’s Art Committee invites Maine artists to submit proposals to display and sell their work at a MaineGeneral facility. Those selected will have an opportunity to hang their art in the Alfond Center for Health in Augusta or the Thayer Center for Health in Waterville for a period of eight weeks.

Exhibition spaces can accommodate 15 to 20 pieces of art. All two-dimensional media are welcome, from solo artists or groups. Framed size of the artwork should range from 11×14 to 24×36 inches. MaineGeneral’s Art Committee retains a low 20 percent commission on any sales to purchase art for the benefit of the hospital’s patients and staff.

Proposals are accepted on a rolling basis and are reviewed monthly. Spaces are available in the fall and winter of 2022 and into 2023. Complete application information can be found on the hospital website: https://www.mainegeneral.org/about-us/mgmc-art-committee/.

To learn more or ask questions, please contact Jo Horn of Volunteer Services by email at mgmcart.committee@mainegeneral.org or by phone at (207) 626-1244.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS – Sundays were special: Especially when dad didn’t work

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Waterville Post Office, built in 1911, as seen in this 1960s photo.

by Roland D. Hallee

Back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, life on the plains was relatively simple. During the winter, it was school, and during the summers, we pretty much discussed that a couple of weeks ago.

But Sunday’s were special.

Being from a French Catholic household, Sundays always began with the Sunday Mass at St. Francis de Sales Church. The whole family, six of us – father, mother, my three brothers and me. The Mass back then was celebrated in both French and Latin, and it would last well over an hour. Sometimes, my mother had her hands full keeping us focused. My dad wasn’t always with us because he sometimes worked the 7 a.m. – 3 p.m. shift at Hollingsworth & Whitney Paper Mill, in Winslow.

When my dad came with us, we would ride to church. When he didn’t, we would walk.

After church, we would head home and begin preparations for the Sunday dinner. That was always the major meal of the week. It would consist of chicken, ham, beef, or pork with all the potatoes and vegetables, and always…always something sweet to finish it off. Sunday dinner would usually last from noon to about 2 p.m., where everything was discussed from how school was going, how our sports teams were doing, world politics, and, of course, when dad was at Sunday dinner, we got our weekly lesson on how to run a papermaking machine, and the process of making paper. At one point, I was sure I could go to the mill and run that machine myself.

Occasionally, I would go next door – we lived in a duplex with our grandparents living next door. There I would find my grandfather sitting by the radio, listening to his favorite program, La Melodie Francais, hosted by Edgar Poulin, who lived on Water St., in a house located across the street from the present-day Forrest J. Paré VFW post. (By the way, Mr. Poulin was grandfather to The Town Line’s business manager and China resident, Claire Breton.) He would play old French music from Canada. My grandfather, who was a jokester with a great sense of humor, would call the show, La Maladie Francais, which translates to The French Sickness.

My grandfather was Canadian-born, but later became a naturalized U.S. citizen. He would sit in his big, stuffed chair, and do a jig with his feet, without getting out of the chair. It was a pleasure, and entertaining, to watch him do that.

Every once in a while, after church, if the weather was nice, we would take a Sunday drive out to the country. Now, back then, once you reached the end of Silver St., and crossed the bridge, you were in the country, heading up the Oakland Road, to Oakland, which is now called Kennedy Memorial Drive. There was Mea­der’s Horse Farm, on the left, where JFK Plaza is now, and nothing until you reached the Penny Hill Farm, which is now the doctors’ complex and Eye Care of Maine. We would sometimes stop for fresh vegetables. If you headed north up Main St., you would be in the country when you reached what is now Elm Plaza and all the other businesses located on both sides of the road. There was nothing but open fields.

Occasionally, my dad would somehow work up the courage, and after reading the morning paper, call out to the four of us and say, “How about if we go see a Red Sox game?” So, off we’d go, head to Boston on a Sunday morning, and return home that evening. You always had a feeling he would do that after he would read that the Sox were playing a doubleheader that day. Get two games for the price of one. On July 20, 1958, I actually saw Jim Bunning, of the Detroit Tigers, pitch a no-hitter. I also saw Ted Williams hit the 521st and last home run of his career on September 28, 1960, in his last major league at-bat.

Enough of that!

Sundays were always a family day back then, again, when my dad didn’t work the “day shift.” We would all dress up for church, and pretty much stay that way the rest of the day. Doing anything to ruin your “Sunday best” would put you in a deep bunch of trouble. My mother was meticulous, and she expected us to do the same.

It never seemed to rain on Sundays.

Read other installments in this series here.